


good boys

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-04
Updated: 2009-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:25:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a href="http://cieluna.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://cieluna.livejournal.com/"><b>cieluna</b></a>'s <a href="http://cieluna.livejournal.com/19549.html">words for lines meme</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	good boys

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://cieluna.livejournal.com/profile)[**cieluna**](http://cieluna.livejournal.com/)'s [words for lines meme](http://cieluna.livejournal.com/19549.html).

By the time Patrick's bellowing promises of doom simmered down to dark mutters, Joe had already been passed out for about half an hour, spread-eagled over their bags on the floor. Andy was reading on the single bed in their sorry motel room, and Pete was lying down as well, in the opposite direction, head towards Andy's feet. Surprisingly, Andy had okay-smelling feet. They couldn't say the same for Pete, which was why the biggest hotel rule was, "Pete, wash your feet before you get in this fucking bed."

Remembering this rule, Patrick snapped, "And your feet are stupid."

"That's okay," Pete said comfortably, actually snuggled against Andy's leg. "At least I'm not a huge dick that tries to kill my friends over stupid things, until my friends have to chain me up to a chair."

"I don't know where you even got chains," Patrick spat and strained against the metal links crossing his chest; they held firm against his struggles, the locks shifting slightly, and he sat back with a glare. "By the way? I still hate you."

"By the way," Pete countered, "If I have a concussion from you slamming me against the wall at that fucking gas station, I'm gonna sue you. I don't have any problem dragging a pissy teenager to court."

"He just has a lot of sexual tension pent up inside," Andy said casually, turning a page, and Patrick took a betrayed inhale. Pete was raising his dark eyebrows in amusement. "Maybe he just needs to work it out."

"He's still under-aged in some states," Pete murmured, and turned his face to press against Andy's calf, still clad in dark jeans. "I mean, sometimes I have morals."

"Sometimes?" Andy smiled down at him, moving his leg a little. Pete made a little contented sound, curling up more against it and petting it like a favourite teddy-bear. Patrick's mouth was going dry. They... they _wouldn't_.

Oh, but they would. Not only were they the longest friends in the band, but they were the most comfortable with each other's bodies. Patrick was sometimes very jealous of the easy way they'd lean against each other; he was still at that stage where having someone hug him made his body get all rigid and awkward.

Also, his simultaneous crush on both Pete and Andy didn't help matters at all; it didn't help that they had really nice lean bodies that they loved to show off; it didn't help that he thought they were both super talented and kind of fanboyed them mentally ( _In a band! With Pete Wentz! And Andy Hurley!_ ); and it _really_ didn't help that sometimes they were the hugest teases in the world, laughingly touching him or each other just to make him blush.

Pete sat up and gave him a contemplative look; then he crawled up over Andy, taking the book out of his hand as he straddled the drummer.

"What… what are you doing?" Patrick asked and swallowed hard. Oh please, let them do what he thought they were about to do.

"See, I think you need some kind of incentive. If you're a good boy, you get to see… I dunno, things like this." Pete took Andy's chin in his hand and brushed their lips together. Andy tilted his head, humming as if Pete did stuff like this everyday and closed his eyes. Patrick could see his lips part, and Pete's tongue slip inside, pink and slick.

Yes. Someone up there both loved _and_ hated Patrick, because he was getting a look at hot making-out and he couldn't move. Well, what would he have done anyway? Probably be a huge dork, like right now, blushing so hot he hoped his black t-shirt wouldn't go up in flames. He squirmed, feeling his cock thicken and press eagerly inside his jeans.

Can you be a good boy?" Pete asked, turning his head to stare at Patrick; his eyes were half-lidded, and he moaned slightly as Andy licked his neck and nibbled the lobe of his ear. "Patrick?"

"I--" Patrick took a deep breath, but he couldn't seem to stop panting, watching the way one of Andy's hands stroked down Pete's shoulder, fingers pale against Pete's deeper tone. "I can be a good boy." He felt slightly foolish for saying that, but right about now, if they wanted him to stand on his head and sing Unchained Melody, he'd definitely give it his best shot.

Andy was now leaning his head against Pete's chest, colourful arms slung lightly around his waist. "And if you can wait a couple of weeks, we'll reward you on your birthday. Right, Pete?"

Pete nodded, fingers carding through Andy's hair. "Totally right."

Patrick blinked at them; then he heard Joe mumble something in his sleep and turn over on the bags. This seemed to break him out of whatever spell they had him under. "I have to go to the bathroom," he informed them and they smiled at him widely. He flushed, cutting his gaze away from their sly expressions, but managed to continue. "So you kinda have to take off these chains. So I can. You know."

"Okay, just don't hit me." Pete slid off Andy and padded over, digging into his back pocket for the keys. Undoing them quickly, he stood aside as Patrick stood up with as much dignity he could gather, hoping his erection wasn't showing too much and then stalked off to the bathroom. He barely got the door shut before he was struggling with his jeans, taking his cock in hand. He was pressed against the door and could hear them talking together, voices low; his fist tightened and he rubbed the pad of his thumb through the pre-come, practically holding his breath so he could hear when Andy laughed and then moaned.

"Fuck," Patrick whispered, his hand moving jerkily. He could hear them breathing hard as well, the bed was creaking and his hand was pressed over his mouth when Pete's muffled voice filtered through the thin wood of the door: "Oh god, Hurley. Fuck. Don't do that, that's… that's _cheating_ , man," before he made a kind of rough gasp. Andy didn't make another sound, but Patrick knew from miles and miles of bus-journeys that Andy could be as silent as a shadow when he wanted. Besides, he couldn't really concentrate on that right now, his body was kind of busy shaking and his dick spurting hot come over his hand.

He was wiping himself gingerly with a wadded handful of tissues when he heard Joe said in groggy tones, "It smells funny in here," and he pressed his head against the cool surface of the mirror and wished so very hard that his birthday would come soon.

Until then, he would be a _very_ good boy.

_fin!_


End file.
